


Where the Heart Is

by titC



Series: December 2016 - Month of Fluff! [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feels, I got rid of characters WITHOUT killing them, Lucifer is totally defeated by a 10-year-old girl, More Feels, Pancakes, Pre-Relationship, Scars, Trixie's not quite over her kidnapping, can you believe it, feathers - Freeform, hugs and pianos, month of fluff, not me, who knew fluff was this hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:26:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8800792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Lucifer has to babysit Trixie for a few days.Feels ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BecomeMyObsession](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecomeMyObsession/gifts).



> So it was supposed to be a 2K word fluffy ficlet for BecomeMyObsession's birthday.  
> HAHAHAHAHA.  
> I still wanted to have it posted for her birthday, so it's not the most polished ever :-/  
> ...it's the thought that counts?  
> So...  
> Happy birthday!

For once, the Detective wasn’t on his mind when his phone chimed. He was contemplating the night lights of Los Angeles from his balcony, pondering why he hadn’t felt the need to see the Brittanies in a while – even with their partner Joaquin. The prospect just… didn’t appeal. Sex, yes; fun and games and pleasure and laughter, sure… but for some reason, it all seemed like a lot of effort for something, well. A bit stale, maybe. Done, done again and almost overdone. He should ask Doctor Martin, really. She’d probably have something to say about it.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and raised his eyebrows. _Call me when you can tonight. Anytime_. From the Detective. What was she doing, up at such a late… well, early hour?

“Detective?”

“Lucifer! Oh, thank god – _don’t say it_. I… I need a favor, and I don’t know who else to ask.” She sounded both worried and unsure.

“You know you can ask anything.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“Does it matter?”

There was a small thump and he heard her release a long breath. When she spoke again, she sounded calmer, a bit fainter too as if she’d put the phone on speaker. He could picture her, phone between her elbows on the kitchen counter, her hair framing her face. “It’s a big favor.”

“Ask.”

“It’s Trixie.” The child? What had happened? Should he – “She’s fine, don’t go on a rampage.” He certainly wasn’t going to, what was she implying? “My mother had an accident at a sci-fi convention and – no, she’s fine, well a few broken bones but nothing serious.”

“So it’s not your daughter?”

“I’m not explaining this properly, am I?”

“No, you’re not. Shall I come to your place?”

She didn’t answer at first. “Can you?”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

“Don’t kill yourself driving like a maniac, Lucifer.”

“As if.”

He heard her huff a little laugh just before he hung up and grabbed his car keys.

 

She looked a bit harried when she opened the door.

“What happened to dear Penelope?”

“Ah, well. They wanted to recreate a flying scene from one of her old movies but the rig collapsed and she fell; not from too high but she broke a leg and two ribs and she’s got serious bruising all over.” She busied herself with making coffee. “She’s stuck in a hospital in Boston for a couple days, they want to check she didn’t hurt anything else; and then she probably won’t take the plane for a while.”

“And you’re going to Boston? Yes please,” he added when she gestured at him with a mug.

“Yeah, just for a few days, a week tops; so I can help find her a place to stay for a few weeks and, well.” She plopped the two mugs on the table between them and finally sat. “She doesn’t know anyone there and she’s in pain, so...” She bit her lip. It was charming.

“And what can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s Trixie. Dan is visiting his sister in San Diego because she’s just had her baby and her husband is deployed overseas, Maze is on a hunting job, and I… I don’t know who to ask. Maybe you can call someone who owes you a favor or…”

“I can keep her for a few days. Drive her to school, feed her, don’t let her fall from the window, right? How hard can it be?” …Bloody hell. What had he done? He’d just looked at the Detective and her worried eyes and he’d caved.

“Are you sure? I mean, she can be a handful, and you’re not fond of children.”

“Your spawn is tolerable.”

“I just figured you’d know someone who could… but, really, if you could… she likes you, and I know you won’t let her come to harm.”

“Of course not!” As if. Not on his watch.

“Maze should be back in a couple of days, and then she can come back here and you can breathe again.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” Right?

“I hope so. I’ve got to get a plane ticket to fly out today and explain things to Trixie and…” She let her head fall on her forearms.

“Detective. It’s half-past four. Go to bed for a few hours, you need it. I’ll stay here and find your flight and make breakfast, and then I’ll drive you to the airport. Deal?”

“And Trixie?”

Ah, yes. The reason for his presence. “When is she supposed to get up?”

“Seven.”

“Fine. Noted.” He poked her shoulder. “Now go to bed. Unless you want me to take you there, hm?”

She groaned. “Fine. You’re probably right. But she’ll also need her packed lunch and you should check her schoolbag and – ”

He stood up and walked around the table. “That’s it. I’m taking you to bed, screaming and kicking if need be.” He crossed his arms and looked down at her and waggled his eyebrows and he felt a strange sort of pride when she smiled and shook her head and squeezed his wrist as she pushed past him on her way to her bedroom.

He found her a direct flight in the early afternoon, then booked a hotel for two nights and asked them to charge him if she stayed later or if she wanted to book another room for her mother, rummaged in the fridge to see what he could whip up for breakfast and the little human’s lunch and then, finally done, sat on the back porch swing to smoke a cigarette. It was nearly time for the child to emerge from her bedroom, and he felt he needed the nicotine before that.

He walked back inside just to see her open her door.

“Hello, spawn.” She opened her mouth. “Don’t speak too loud, your mother is asleep. Hopefully.”

“Hi Lucifer!” she dutifully whispered from the vicinity of his waist.

“Yes, yes. What do you do in the mornings?”

She looked at him as if _he_ were the child. “Well, I get ready for school. Duh.”

“Yes, thank you. And what does that entail?” He turned to the eggs he’d laid out on the table and started on the omelet.

“Well, I get dressed and I have breakfast with mom and then she drives me to school.”

“Fine. Then go put your day clothes on and then you’ll eat.” Was he doing it right? Well, the omelet he thought he was, at least; but the child was still clutching the fabric of his trousers. Creases!

“What about mommy? She always hugs me in the morning. Is she sick?” She suddenly looked apprehensive, coming closer to him and looking at her mother’s door.

“No, she isn’t. She’s just very tired, so I came to help.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now go take off these… things you’re wearing, I’m not feeding you if you have… are those candle holders? And teacups? With mouths?”

She giggled and ran back to her room, taking a detour through the bathroom first. Now he just had to bring the topic of the hurt grandmother in a tactful and child-appropriate manner, or the Detective would have his family jewels for breakfast instead of proper, farm-grown chicken eggs.

He cut up some fruit into two bowls and put one in the fridge for when the Detective would wake up, then poured hot water over a teabag with a moue. It was cheap tea, but he probably wouldn’t win any points with the mother if he drank alcohol in front of the child _in the morning_.

“Feed me now!” He looked up to see a big smile directed at him. How she could always seem so enthusiastic around him was baffling.

Still, he had to deserve the Detective’s trust. Spawn feeding: ongoing, he thought as he handed her a plate. Now for the rest. “When do you usually leave for school?”

“’bout eight. You’re not hungry?”

Well, he couldn’t really tell her he’d rather share breakfast with her mother, it probably wasn’t the done thing. Or maybe it was? How should he know these things? “Ah, no. Er, so.” She chewed with her mouth open. He looked outside. “Your mother asked me to take care of you for a few days while she goes to stay with your grandmother in Boston.”

“Why Boston?”

“Because that’s where your grandmother is.”

“Why isn’t Nana coming here?”

“She broke a few bones, she can’t travel right now.” The child’s eyes grew large and wet. “No, no, she’s all right, mostly. I – fine, do you know how to get into your mother’s phone?”

Of course she did, Maze wouldn’t like her otherwise. It wouldn’t do to breach the Detective’s privacy himself, but her daughter… she’d done it before, he remembered, and been _forgiven_. He veered off that line of thought and flipped through the names until he found Penelope’s.

He tried twice, then waited a bit in case she called back. She probably would, if she saw it was her daughter’s number. While he waited, the spawn was looking more and more anxious and fidgety, until she finally got off her chair and went to stand next to him, grabbing his sleeve. She stared at the phone, willing it to ring – until it did. He snatched the phone before she could grab it.

“Hello, Penelope.” She made a surprised noise, but he didn’t let her launch into a proper sentence. “A pleasure to talk to you as always. Can you just reassure the little one that you’ll be fine?”

“This is Lucifer, yes? What are you doing with my daughter’s phone?” She sounded hoarse, but otherwise fine. She was an actress after all; even if she was feeling poorly she’d be able to fake it, or so he assumed. That’s what one did for children, yes?

“Why, calling you, obviously. The Detective is asleep right now, but the child is worried about you.”

“And you’re minding her? Where is Dan? Nevermind, let me talk to her.”

He handed the phone to the little human, and watched her face grow from pinched to animated and relieved. Mission accomplished.

He dumped the dregs of his tea into the sink and gathered plate and bowl and cutlery to stack them in the dishwasher. It was probably time to take the kid to school.

When she gave him the phone back, he used it as a weight on a note telling the Detective he’d be back before 9, raised his eyebrows when the child rushed into the bathroom to wash her teeth and remembered the schoolbag thing just as they were leaving the flat.

“Do you have all you need for the day in your bag?”

She pursed her lips for a second. “Lunch!”

…he knew he’d forgotten something. Small humans needed to be fed _often_. “We’ll stop by a deli, how does that sound?” He knew one on the way to her school that would certainly deliver, especially if he mentioned the favour they owed him. That would do, yes?

 

Driving back to Venice, he wondered why he’d volunteered to keep the child. He was woefully unfit, and didn’t particularly care to be. What was wrong with him? His trousers were creased, his shirt had fruit juice stains from where she’d caught his sleeve, and he was sure he’d gone past handsome stubble straight into hobo beard territory. He avoided checking into the rear view mirror, just in case.

As he opened the front door, he saw the Detective walk out of the bathroom, clothed in steam and a towel.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said.

“I am. The child is at school with clothes and food and her school things, and you have a plane at 2 pm. Plenty of time for a hearty breakfast.” He threw his jacket over the back of a chair, rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the soap by the kitchen sink. “Shoo, go get decent before I change my mind.” Was that the right thing to say? She looked at him as if he were an alien then hurried into her room and closed the door. He was _trying_. Dr Martin had said he had to show he was trustworthy for everyday things. That’s what he was doing, right?

 

The Detective was on her way to Boston, he’d had time to make himself presentable again, he’d ignored Maze’s text ( _Chloe sez u r keeping Trix._ _No feathers left 2 save u if u fuck up_.) and the douche’s voice message (“I will know.” Cryptic) and now he was on his way to the school. Why humans had to heap their offspring in an ugly building several hours a day, five days a week escaped him but he’d given his word.

Of course, she ran straight into him as soon as she spotted him. He saw a few people look first questioningly at him, then with a different kind of interest, but he ignored them. He wasn’t here for them. One of the teachers looked at him and seemed reassured when the child seemed to know and trust him, and so he tolerated her fingers grabbing his as they walked to her car and she chattered about her day. He didn’t understand most of it.

“Can I have chocolate cake?”

Ah. That he understood. But the Detective had been very clear on the topic of cake. “Maybe tonight for dessert.”

She started sniffling. “But… Mommy…”

She’d also warned him about that. “We are going ho – to my home, you’re going to call your mother, do your homework, and then it will be dinner time.” Since apparently she had to eat very, very early.

“But I don’t wanna.”

“Sorry, those are your mother’s orders.”

She sulked all the way to Lux, barricaded herself into his guest room, sounded very cheerful on the phone with the Detective, and then he heard her cry for long minutes. He stood there, in front of the door, helpless and feeling so out of his depth he even considered calling Maze. _Maze_.

After a while she seemed to calm down, and he wandered to his kitchen. He did have cake in the fridge, but he assumed it was not a proper meal for a growing child; and so he started on a pasta dish.

After a while, he heard her door open and he saw her peer out from behind the door jamb. “Lucifer?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have…” She looked at him with a frown. “Can I have some milk?”

He considered doing his what-do-you-truly-desire routine on her, because it looked like she didn’t actually want milk; but he rejected the idea. “Do you want to help?” Please say no.

“Yes!”

She’d apparently forgotten all about the milk, because she skipped into the kitchen and considered the vegetables he’d been chopping and then tried to grab the knife. “No, no knife for you.” He thrust a bowl at her. “Here, mix this.” It didn’t need to be, but she seemed happy to have something to do.

“Can I watch TV tonight?”

What was the proper protocol? “Your mother said you had to go to bed at half nine.”

She did the big innocent eyes at him, but he was the devil. He was immune. “Fine. I brought some DVDs from your home.”

“Yay!” she seemed quite cheered up after that, and went on talking about her teachers and a boy called Michael (he shuddered) and an assignment she had to do about music and how it made her feel.

After she’d eaten (“Do you ever eat?” Not with you as long as you haven’t learned to close your mouth while you chew, he didn’t say), he let her fiddle with the DVD player in her room while he poured himself a comforting glass of whisky and sat at his piano. What should he play tonight at Lux? He went through a few old favourites, tried some he hadn’t done in a while, humming along as his fingers warmed up. He almost jumped out of his skin when the spawn sat next to him on the bench.

“What are you doing here?”

She inched closer to him. “Can’t sleep.”

“Well, it’s – ” he checked the time. “Right. Why can’t you?”

“Mommy always reads me a story before bed.”

He stopped playing. “I don’t know any stories.” None that would be a good idea for a child, probably.

She sniffled. “Can you play a bit more then?”

“I was already – fine. What do you want me to play?”

“Something nice.”

Well, that was just perfect. He knew exactly what she wanted now.

Right, so he needed to put her to sleep – did he know anything slow enough? He let his hands decide for him, feeling the girl leave his side to climb on the sofa. He saw her curl with her head on the arm, and after a few minutes she was breathing regularly, eyes closed. He stopped playing and looked at her for a long while, a lock of hair that had fallen on her face quivering with each slow inhale and exhale. He should probably take her back to her room before going down to Lux, although he didn’t really feel like partying anymore.

He watched her sleep for an hour before carrying her to her bed and playing soft songs the rest of the night.

 

A shriek had him run out of the bathroom the next morning, towel hastily tied around his waist and shaving cream over half his face.

He found the spawn howling with laughter in front of the TV set in her room. “What…?”

“Oooh, you haven’t finished shaving!” She got up and hugged his waist. Her hair on the skin of his stomach made him feel horribly uncomfortable. “Hello, Lucifer.”

“Hello, offspring.”

Giggling, she took his wrist and dragged him to the bathroom. “I’m going to check you don’t forget to shave anywhere!” She looked intently at him, and he looked back.

“Are you going to stay here?”

“I help daddy when he shaves too.”

“Goody.” Razor in hand, he side-eyed her. “I don’t need you, child.”

She threw him a glance so full of world-weariness and tired wisdom he almost dropped the blade.

“I’ll just sit here and check when you’re done then,” she said as she perched on the stool behind him.

He heard her make a small noise but then she kept silent, and he finished shaving with a few precise strokes.

He stepped towards the door and she piped up. “Check time!” He sighed.

“I do have a mirror, you know.” He turned to her, but she wasn’t smiling. “What is it?”

“What happened to your back?”

Bloody hell, he’d forgotten. “It’s, ah, nothing.”

“Does it hurt?” What should he answer? “Did it hurt? Can I touch? Are you sad?” He gaped at her. So many questions. What could he say?

“It was a long time ago.”

“When?”

“When I arrived in this city.”

“So what happened? Did bad people hurt you? Did you tell mommy and daddy? They would catch them, you know.”

“No, I…” He didn’t lie. “I asked Maze to cut off my wings.”

“…wings?”

“Wings.”

“Why?”

“Because… because they hurt.”

“And you’re better now?”

He hesitated. “Yes.”

“So Maze was like your doctor?”

Hah. She’d love that. “I suppose.”

The child climbed to stand on the stool and launched herself at him, and it was all he could do to catch her. “I want my mommy,” she whispered in the skin of his neck. He felt the hair in his nape flutter. “She’d make you feel better too.”

Very probably, he thought, but she’s not here. Instead, there’s you, your heels digging in my kidneys and your hair tickling my face and –

“Are you an angel?”

He almost let her drop. “What makes you think that?”

“You had wings.”

“Not anymore.” He didn’t like this conversation. He wanted out out out.

“I’d have liked to see them. Wings are cool.”

She clung to him for a few more minutes, and he felt grateful and awed at the same time by her refusal to cry. He could hear her shaky breath, feel her fists on his shoulder blades. “You and mommy, you saved me from the bad man at the airport.” What had brought this on?

“That was a long time ago. You’re safe now, your parents won’t let anything bad happen to you.” That’s what parents are supposed to do, anyway.

“And Maze and you.”

“And Maze and… yes.”

Sometimes, he had memories floating back to the surface of his thoughts – long-forgotten ones of strong arms holding him up, a soft hand wiping his tears, feeling loved and warm and like nothing could ever hurt him. Like his parents’ love would always be there, would always protect him. If only he’d known then… But he didn’t want the Detective’s child to go through what he had. He wrapped his arms more firmly around her and nosed the soft, fine hair for a long while, until his eyes fell on the sky outside.

“Shouldn’t you get ready for school now?” he murmured into the quiet.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Your mother would be very unhappy if you don’t go.”

She tightened her grip around his neck. “Please.” He tried to ignore the dampness gathering on his collarbone as he carried her to her room. “We won’t tell mommy.”

With a sigh, he sat her on the bed. At her nod, he opened her school bag and rooting through it found a paper with the school’s number on it. “Wait here.”

He wandered out to his library and thought for a minute. What should he do? The little one seemed surprisingly needy this morning, but maybe she only didn’t want to go to school, or perhaps she just needed her mother… how could he know? Who would? He hit the speed dial on his phone.

“…what – oh god, is something wrong with Trixie? What did you do to her?” Daddy douche went from sleepy to papa bear in less than two seconds, apparently.

“Hello, Daniel. Nice of of you think I’m guilty here.” He looked at the ceiling. “No, I – I don’t know. She doesn’t want to go to school. What am I supposed to do?”

“She’s a kid, kids often don’t want to go to school. Wait. Are you calling me because you’re afraid of telling Chloe you can’t say no to Trix?” He snickered. “She’d laugh at you.”

“As you’re doing now, thank you for that.” He glared at the ceiling. “No, the little one seemed… sad?”

“Sad?”

“I think she misses the Detective.”

“What did she say?”

“Not much. She, ah. Did the thing.”

“What thing?”

“…with her arms.”

“ _What thing?_ ”

“And she cried, I think.”

“You think?”

“Well, if I’d been wearing a shirt she’d have ruined it with snot, I’m sure.”

“Wait. She cried on you? You _hugged_ her?”

Lucifer sniffed. “It was the other way around. The devil does not – ”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Why was she crying?”

“I told you, I don’t know. She mentioned what happened with your former colleague.”

“Malcolm.” The douche may have often been antagonistic with him (and not entirely without reason), but he’d never heard that much venom in the man’s voice before. “That rotten bastard, I hope he’s burning in hell.”

“Oh, I can assure you he is.”

“Good. But anyway, yes, it happens. She has flashbacks sometimes, nightmares. She always mentions you dying, for some reason.” Well, he had. “The school knows about it. I’ll call them, tell them she won’t come this morning, and maybe not this afternoon. It happens sometimes. Less and less often, but it does. Her therapist told us it probably would, that she’d need a bit of a time off on those days.”

A therapist? Well, if the devil had one, why not the spawn. “Can we not mention it to the Detective?”

“What, that you’re a big softie? I’ll hold this over your head forever, Morningstar. The suave ladykiller, defeated by a 10-year-old girl.”

Lucifer grumbled. “Fine.”

“Fine.” There was a wail in the background. “Ah, my nephew’s waking up. Gotta help the sis. Have Trix call me tonight, will you? I’ll be back next Sunday, if Chloe’s still with her mom you’ll be childfree again then.”

“Noted. Good day to you then, Daniel.”

“Yeah. She’d better be smiling when I talk to her, Morningstar.”

Well, he thought as he contemplated the wall of books. He was definitely in _way_ over his head.

After a detour through his closet to ditch the towel and look a bit more decent – he was all for indecency with adults, but not with someone who still wore pigtails, thank you very much – he looked in on the child.

“Would you like to help prepare breakfast?” After all, it had worked the day before.

She jumped off he bed with a happy squeal and threw her teddy back on her pillow before rushing past him, presumably in the direction of the kitchen. “Pancakes!” she yelled. “I want pancakes!”

Well. Pancakes it would be.

 

It had been a long, strange day, he decided as he let the child chatter happily to her father while he went to pour himself a drink or five. She’d been… tolerable, if a bit overenthusiastic; especially when she wheedled him into going to the zoo. How she could find pleasure in watching jailed animals, he did not know; but from what he could tell it was a big thing, and a dream career of hers too. He liked the President of Mars one better, frankly. He’d been unsettled when she took his hand as they neared the birds area and looked at him with something strange in her eyes, something he couldn’t name – couldn’t even recognize. She’d asked if he wanted to skip the birds, and he didn’t understand why. Didn’t she like them? _Of course, silly_ , she’d answered. _But maybe you don’t?_ He’d stared at her for a moment, and finally she’d dragged him away to the big cats.

Hopefully, after her long day she’d be tired enough she’d sleep early tonight, and he could go down to Lux; unlike the day before. And she’d go to school in the morning like children were supposed to and he’d have the day for himself.

“Lucifer!” Duty called. Already. He found her lying on the floor with her legs up against the bed. “I called mommy too and she said I can’t skip school tomorrow.”

…and he’d forgotten to brief the spawn on keeping mum about today. Well, at least the douche would not have anything to hold over him now the cat was out of the bag. “Well, I’m sure she’s right.” He sat on the floor next to her, avoiding contact. He’d had enough for the day – more than. “How’s Penelope? Your grandmother,” he added at her owl impression.

“She’s okay and she’s not in hospital anymore and she said they’re in a nice hotel now.” She thumped the mattress with her calves. “I don’t like hospitals.”

“I don’t think anyone does, little one.”

“Did you go to a hospital when Maze cut your wings off?” He stared at her. “When I get hurt mommy or daddy always kiss it better. Like when I fell from my bike last year.” She twisted around to sit properly and proudly showed him a little scar on her scalp. “See?”

“It’s a very small scar.” What was he supposed to answer?

“There was blood eeeeverywhere!” She seemed particularly gleeful about it, but then her face changed again, grew more serious. “Did you bleed a lot?”

Would she stop with the questions? “I… it was a long time ago.”

“Do you have a mom too? Did she kiss it better? Maybe Maze did. Did she?”

“Maze is not my mother.” The idea…

She giggled. Maze as a mother must be strange to her too. “If you still had your wings, would you take me flying?”

His breath caught in his throat. Why was she so fascinated with them? He’d cut them off, he didn’t want them anymore – he didn’t want the connection with his father. He’d only wanted to be his own man, and he’d given away the freedom of flight for that. “That’s a moot point,” he rasped out.

“It would be cool if they grew back. But not if they hurt.” She wriggled. “Why did they hurt?”

Because they were my father’s gift, he thought. Because he threw me out and now I’m sure he forgot all about me or maybe he just hates me and I couldn’t bear the constant reminder. “Because they reminded me of… bad things.”

“But…” She liked that word, it seemed. “Sometimes when I see people with moustaches they remind me of the bad man that took me away and hurt you, but then Michael’s father has a moustache too and he’s nice and now I’m not afraid of them anymore. Maybe new wings would be different?”

“Wings are like arms and legs, not like facial hair. They don’t grow back.”

“Oh.” She paused. “That’s sad. I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is.” He lifted a knee to rest his arm on. “Hungry?” It was a safe bet. She was always hungry.

“I want burgers!”

Ah. That was a much easier request, and he fled to the kitchen to see what he needed to order before making burgers.

 

The child was in bed at last. Fed, cleaned (hopefully, he hadn’t checked was she was doing in the bathroom – the devil wasn’t a perv, thank you very much), and hopefully asleep. He still hesitated before going down to Lux. Could you leave a child on their own if they were unconscious? Or was it absolutely verboten?

He wouldn’t call the douche again about it – he had to find a solution himself. He thought for a minute, then finally took the lift down to his club. First stop: the dancers’ break room.

“Evening, Ebony,” he told the woman. She was fighting with her go go boots.

“Hey, boss.”

“Finals coming up?”

“Yeah.” She glared at the boots. “Fuck these things.”

“What would you say if you didn’t have to put them on tonight?”

She looked at him with a wary eye. “Depends. What should I have to put on instead?”

“Just your regular clothes. I… There’s…” How could he put it without losing all his cool persona? “I need you to babysit a child,” he said in a rush.

She froze. “What?”

“I’m keeping a friend’s daughter for a few days, but I still need to spend a few hours here, and I think I’m not supposed to leave her on her own even when she’s sleeping.”

“How old is she?” She knew him well enough to look a bit poleaxed at the idea of Lucifer Morningstar, babysitter extraordinaire; but she regrouped admirably quickly.

“Ten. I imagine you didn’t bring your study things with you, but you can use the computer upstairs.” Maybe that would sweeten the deal?

She wavered for a while before answering. “Okay. I don’t know how to deal with small ones, but ten is fine.”

“I’ll pay you, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And, ah. Can you do that for the next few nights?”

“Well, sure. Is she expecting me?”

Expecting…? “She won’t even see you. She’s sleeping.”

“What if she gets up to get some water or go to the restroom?”

That… had not crossed his mind. “Maybe we can wake her up then?”

Ebony raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe she was pretending to sleep when you left and is now destroying everything upstairs.” He felt blood drain from his face. “I’m joking, bossman. Well, not entirely, but – have you ever _been_ a kid?”

He didn’t answer, hurrying to his private elevator instead.

When the doors opened, there was a faint sound coming from the child’s room. They walked there and he knocked. The sound abruptly cut off, but the faint light coming from under the door remained.

“I think she’s watching TV. She played you.” Ebony looked entirely too amused.

“Right. Well. Spawn, I know you’re awake. Can you come out for a minute?” She walked out, pretending she’d just been woken up and looking entirely too fresh-faced for that. Not a single pillow mark on her face. “This is Ebony. She is going to stay here with you while I’m downstairs. Ebony, this is the offspring. I… am leaving now.”

He heard Ebony ask the child what her actual name was just before the elevator doors closed.

Right. Yet another potential disaster avoided. He’d known Ebony for long enough to trust her – and now he could at last spend an entire night at Lux.

 

Ebony still had her nose on a book when he came back up in the early hours in the morning, and he called a cab for her. The other dancers had already left, and Ebony was one of the few without a car; he knew enough of her story to know she’d be more comfortable not walking the streets at night. She yawned, thanked him and left with a little wave and a mumbled “be back tonight,” and he decided a celebratory night cap – a morning cap, maybe, was in order.

The child was still alive and in one piece, after all.

 

He almost jumped out of his skin when the door to the bathroom opened to reveal a small human clutching her teddy and her eyes half-open. He’d forgotten to lock the door again.

“Hello,” she mumbled.

“Good morning.” Should he mention she should have knocked? He wasn’t sure it would stick, given she seemed still half-asleep. Good thing he was already wearing his boxers.

“Have to do the shave check,” she said as she settled on the stool.

He could feel her eyes on his back. He knew she was very curious about the scars and that he hadn’t answered her many questions to her satisfaction. He finished shaving and patted his face dry before turning to her and bending down to her height.

“Do I pass muster?”

She squinted her eyes. “It’s weird when you have no beard at all.”

“Yes, well. It never lasts long.”

“Daddy can never grow a beard.”

“Oh, he can’t?” Yet another thing he was better at than the douche. Score one for the devil.

“Nah.” she reached out and put her hand on his cheek, and he froze. “Soft!”

He stood back up in in a hurry. “Yes, well. Shouldn’t you get ready for school?” She started to pout but he narrowed his eyes, and she sighed.

“Fiiine,” she drawled. Just as he left the bathroom he felt her hug him from behind, her little hands clasping just above his navel.

He managed to escape her, but for the rest of the day his skin felt itchy and strange and ill-fitting. Like a snake about to shed, perhaps. He wondered if he had another, newer skin under this one. He doubted it.

 

Friday night had come, and the itch was still there, uncomfortable and making him roll his shoulders often. It wouldn’t prevent him from enjoying tonight. Ebony had just arrived in the penthouse, her textbooks already a familiar sight after a few days.

“What made you want to study stars?” he asked as he tried to decide how many buttons he should leave undone.

“Well, you know. They’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you.”

The child barrelled into Ebony. “Lucifer made the stars!” She said.

“Well, Trixie, no – ”

“How do you know that?”

Both child and student looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Well, I saw it on the Internet. Lucifer made the stars in the sky!”

“Those are stories, Trixie. They’re not real.”

“But Lucifer is – ”

“ _Lucifer_ is ready to leave,” he said quickly. Better interrupt her than let her babble about who knows what; mention of wings would probably make someone as firmly rooted in science as Ebony was laugh at the child or worse – at him. And she _would_ mention them – her fascination with the scars hadn’t abated, and every morning after knocking on the bathroom door (he’d finally instilled some proper etiquette into her brain) she stared at them as she waited for him to finish shaving. Thankfully, she hadn’t touched his face again after the first time, but he knew she itched to touch his back. “Be good, ladies!”

He breathed out when he was in the elevator. Small humans were stressful, and with that prickling sensation crawling all over him he wasn’t feeling up to staying out of his comfort zone for much longer. A night or partying and drinking and music was just what the doctor had ordered. Well, no, Dr Martin had said something saccharine and sentimental when he’d talked about the child staying with him and nothing about partying, but he was sure she’d approve keeping in touch with his inner self. Lucifer Morningstar, life of the party: here I come, he thought. Brace yourselves.

 

He was just finishing _Don’t Stop Me Now_ when he felt a hush come over the club. As the last note rang, he followed everyone’s gaze and turned around on the piano bench. What…?

Ebony was walking down the stairs with the child grasping her hand like her life depended on it. As soon as she spotted him she left her babysitter and ran to him, and he felt something raw and burning and squeezing the breath out of him when he saw her face. She’d been crying, her eyes red and puffy and tear tracks on her cheeks. He lifted her and set her on his knees and she immediately latched onto him as he looked helplessly at Ebony. She shrugged, clearly as lost as he felt.

“What is it, little one?” His words, low as he’d pitched his voice, still rang in the club. You could have heard a feather hit the floor.

“I had a nightmare,” she said.

“Again?” He felt her nod. “Same one?” Another nod. She sniffled, and he just knew his suit was about to be ruined. “Ebony didn’t make you feel better? Not even with her books with the pretty pictures of stars and nebulas?” She shook her head while half the club did a double-take and looked back at the babysitter they usually knew as a go go dancer.

“Can you stay with me?” she asked in a small voice. “So I don’t have nightmares?”

Oh, father. He raised his eyes skywards, and felt them widen when they fell on Maze and the good doctor watching him from the mezzanine. So his demon was back. He glared at her – _she_ was supposed to be the fall-back child-minder, not him; but then Linda smiled and gave him a thumbs-up and he realized the club was waiting for something to happen. People started to whisper and point.

So he stood up with the little girl in his arms, a hand stroking her hair as he walked to Ebony – he knew it calmed her. “I’ll take it from there, thank you. I’ll wire you the money.”

“Well, I didn’t do what you’re paying me to do.”

“I pay you to do what she needs. That’s what you did.” He kissed her cheek since his hands were too busy with the child. “Good night, and good luck for your exams.” He nodded at the DJ to resume playing proper club music before riding up to the penthouse.

“You know your mother will be here tomorrow, yes? And your father the day after?”

“But they’re not here _now_.” Well, you couldn’t always count on your parents to be here when you needed them – but he couldn’t tell her that, could he? “ _You_ are.”

“I’m not them, little one.”

“But you make the nightmares go away too.”

He gave her some warm milk and caved – of course – when she demanded he play her some music. She huddled in a soft blanket taken from the child’s bag, but in spite of the milk and the music and the blanket and the late hour, she showed no sign of sleepiness. Well, at least she wasn’t crying.

Outside, he could see it was the darkest hour, and he was worried. What would the Detective say if her daughter didn’t sleep at all tonight? He went to sit next to her on the sofa, and she moved until she was lying half over him, her head in his lap.

“Does your back itch?” He looked down at her eyes, wide open and trusting. “You’re twitching.” He was not.

Fine, he was. “I’m fine.”

“You should take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“That’s what I do when I have an itch. Mom says sometimes clothes are itchy and we have to take them off and if it goes away then we know we can’t wear them again.”

“I’ve worn this shirt before.”

“But you’re itching _now_.” She tugged at his sleeve.

“The shirt stays on.”

“Okay.” She huffed and straightened up and crawled over him to finally sit on his thighs and rest her cheek on his collarbone, then poked his chest until he wrapped an arm around her. He started to suspect she saw him as her personal giant teddy bear.

“Why can’t you sleep, little one?” he said in a low voice.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “Can you tell me a story?”

“I don’t know any story.”

“Yes you do. Tell me about the stars,” she said. “Let’s go outside and look at the sky and you’ll tell me about how you made the stars.” It felt like he was choking, like an astronaut low on oxygen, like Major Tom stepping through the door, floating in a most peculiar way and feeling very, very still. She was so warm in his arms. Alive.

After a while, she slid down and grabbed his hand, and he stood up on shaky legs to follow her on the balcony. The itching between his shoulder blades was growing worse, until he finally tore his shirt off. The child looked at him knowingly, and then her eyes grew round and awed.

“Lucifer,” she said.

He sat very quickly – he certainly did not fall – on the closest armchair as white feathers filled the world around them.

They watched the sunrise together. The darkest hour of the night had come and gone; and if he held her a little tighter when his breath hitched at times, neither one said anything about it.

 

After some hesitation, she’d finally taken the first flight back to Los Angeles in the morning. She missed her little monkey too much, and although she (mostly) trusted Lucifer with her and she’d talked to Trixie everyday, Chloe still wanted to hold her in her arms. He hadn’t answered when she’d texted she was coming. She still expected to see him and her little girl when she got off the plane, but maybe he hadn’t had her message. Or maybe his battery was dead. Or maybe he was busy. Who knew? Still, she was a bit disappointed.

She took a cab to Lux first, thinking that whatever his reason for not coming was, he’d probably be relieved to be off babysitting duty. Riding up the lift, she tried to think on how she could thank him – if Trixie was still in one piece, of course. But she would be. Of course.

The penthouse was quiet, although not as neat as usual. She spotted a few books of her daughter’s next to an empty mug on the coffee table, little slippers thrown at the foot of the couch. A few pillows stacked in a corner between the piano and the bar with a black silk sheet half over them, half on the floor – had she built a _pillow fort_ in the penthouse? – and drawings on the bar and a pencil that had fallen under a barstool. She smiled; children living somewhere always turned it into their own little messy world.

She looked in into the guest room and saw her bed unmade, the blinds still down. Lucifer’s bedroom was empty, so was the kitchen. She finally wandered out on the balcony. He was there, blowing the smoke of his cigarette above his head as he looked out over the city.

“Smoking around my daughter?” She felt her mouth stretch into a smile at the sight of him, barefoot and shirtless, his hair a bit of a mess. Her baby girl was asleep in his lap, wrapped in her favorite blanket.

He looked up at her. “Hello, Detective.” He stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray. “How is your mother?” He asked in a low voice.

“She’s fine. Look, Lucifer, I… You didn’t have to pay for the hotel. I didn’t even know – when I went to the reception this morning they told me it was all taken care of. How can I thank you? Trixie, and the plane, and this…” He shrugged, careful not to jostle her daughter. “I can’t repay you – not right now.”

“You don’t have to. Consider it a gift.”

She sat on the other armchair, her eyes taking in her surroundings. “Did you hunt birds this week?”

“Hmm?”

She gestured at the floor. There were definitely more feathers than there should be, very white and soft-looking. Swans? White owls?

Trixie started snuffing and making soft noises, and he let her climb down. Chloe raised her eyebrows when she kissed his stubbled cheek and he let her, as if he hadn’t been terrified of her touching him only a few days ago. She didn’t see her mother right away, and first she let the blanket fall and stretched her arms high above her head. “Will you take me flying then today?” Lucifer’s eyes jumped to Chloe, and her daughter’s followed. “Mommy!”

Ah, at last – her baby girl in her arms, her smell, her joy – “I missed you, monkey.”

“I missed you too!” She laughed.

Lucifer stood up to leave them to their reunion. She blinked. “…Lucifer?” He looked back at her. “What… what happened to your back? The… scars?”

“He got his wings back, mommy!”

“What?”

“He’s an angel and he made the stars in the sky and he got his wings back. They’re beautiful!”

“Baby, it’s ridiculous…” Her voice tapered out as she looked at the floor, then back at him. He was looking at the sky and – blushing. He was blushing. “Lucifer?” She jumped up and grabbed his arm. “Show me.” He shook his head. “Show me. I know you have red eyes sometimes, I’ve seen them. I know your face changes. Now show me the wings.”

He couldn’t speak. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and he looked at the sky, at her daughter, at her hand on his arm. She tightened her grip. “Detective…”

“Lucifer.”

He took a few steps away from her and from the wall, closed his eyes. Trixie took his fingers in hers, and he stared down at her as wings shimmered into existence around him. Huge white wings; and he was no snowy owl, no swan.

“They’re so cool!” She looked back and forth between Chloe and him.

“They are. They’re beautiful.” She felt she might faint, but also like she’d love to touch them. They were beautiful. He was beautiful.

Trixie suddenly turned to him. “But Lucifer…Are you going to leave us? Are you going to go back home now?”

“Home?” He smiled down at her, then at Chloe. “Home is right here, little one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now run to your dentist, you must have acquired about a half-dozen cavities ;-)


End file.
